


The Boy in Green Shorts

by lookninjas



Series: Aerobics AU [1]
Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-05
Updated: 2013-05-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 23:59:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4765856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lookninjas/pseuds/lookninjas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is something about the process of stretching someone else's body, placing your hands all over them and pushing and pulling and manipulating them just so.  It doesn't have to be foreplay.  But it can be.  With the right person, it very much can be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Boy in Green Shorts

**Author's Note:**

> Because we just need more Aerobics Class AUs. We just do.

"I like your shirt," an unfamiliar voice tells him (male, warm, occupying that space somewhere between baritone and tenor), and Kurt's heart leaps into his throat even as he concentrates very very hard on straightening his mat.

Last week, there were two boys in the Sue90X class -- Kurt and Mark. This week, there are three.

"I like the stripes. They're... jaunty."

"It's an homage to Richard Simmons," Kurt says, automatically, even as his eyes are traveling up past the black legwarmers and the golden, muscular, _gorgeous_ legs to the extremely, extremely short green shorts and --

The boy in green shorts. Who just started taking Sue90X today, who came in looking a little sheepish and a little shy and a whole lot gorgeous, who set his mat in front of Kurt's with a tiny smile and a quiet, "Is this okay?" before diving into the routine like he'd been doing it his whole life, lunging and bending and thrusting and grinding and then stretching out on his back and throwing his legs right up over his head, his green shorts stretching tight over his round, firm --

Kurt knows he should say something, preferably something suave and cool and seductive. At the very least, he should introduce himself.

But the boy in green shorts is standing right there in front of him, and his shoulders are even broader than Kurt thought they were, his waist even smaller, and he's not especially tall but his curly hair looks fluffy and pullable, and his lips look really soft, and Kurt never knew what people were talking about when they said they got lost in someone's eyes but he thinks he's starting to get it now. Boy does he ever get it now.

So he can't say anything else.

He just stares.

"It's really great," the boy in green shorts says. Then he smiles and ducks his head in this suddenly shy and bashful and wonderful way, and then looks up through his very long, very thick, very dark lashes, and Kurt's not sure if he wants to make out with him for hours and hours or just run around holding hands. Or maybe both. "So. Um. Partner stretches?"

"Oh!" Out of every brutal, torturous thing that Sue Sylvester puts her students through, partner stretches are the thing that Kurt hates the most. He usually gets stuck with Mark, who stares at Kurt's crotch the entire time like he's trying to see through his shorts and his built-in briefs _and_ the extra pair of wicking briefs that Kurt started wearing after the first time he got stuck doing partner stretches with Mark because he does not want Mark to see _anything_. But Mark is currently three mats away, shooting these weird little looks in Kurt's direction and then whispering intently with Sandra, and the boy in green shorts is looking up at Kurt's face and not down at his crotch, and frankly even if he was staring, Kurt wouldn't care. Anyone else, he might, but this boy, the one in the very short green shorts and the very tight black tanktop, with his curly hair and soft lips and warm, swoonable eyes? He can look wherever. Anywhere. Everywhere. "Oh. I mean, yeah. I mean, of course. I -- Did you want -- If you wanted to go first, I could --"

"If you could," the boy says. "I mean, since I've never done this before, and I -- If you could show me how." He looks up at Kurt through his thick, dark eyelashes, and Kurt will show him all kinds of things. He will show this boy things he doesn't even know how to do, things that might not even be real sex acts, things that he's pretty sure Santana just made up to see if she could get him to blush (she did). Kurt will show this boy _everything_.

"Hey!" The sharp bark of Sue Sylvester's voice makes Kurt startle, and the boy in green shorts looks up, warm eyes wide and alarmed. "Lady. Butch Israeli Girl. I don't want to watch your weird, sexless mating dance. Stretch first, foreplay after."

Then Kurt's brain shorts out entirely because the boy in green shorts is dropping to his knees on top of Kurt's yoga mat, and then he's lying on his back, arms spread out to the sides and he's just the most tempting combination of soft vulnerability and corded, compact strength, and it's a good thing that Kurt's done enough Sue90X that he's capable of turning off his mind and operating on pure muscle memory, because somehow he's kneeling down too and when the boy in green shorts lifts his right leg Kurt puts his hands on it (his actual hands touching the actual bare skin of the boy in green shorts, loose green shorts that ride up high on the boy's thigh as Kurt pushes his leg up to a ninety degree angle, and the boy has black compression shorts on underneath his green ones, but they don't really cover all that much, and --)

"Blaine," the boy in green shorts says, and Kurt blinks at him, trying to call his mind back from that place where it's drunk on the warm bare skin and tight solid muscle under his palms.

"Beg pardon?"

"My name," the boy says. "It's Blaine."

"Oh." Kurt slides his right hand a little further down Blaine's hamstring, his left coming up to grip Blaine's ankle through the thick knit of his legwarmers. "My name's Kurt."

"Kurt," Blaine says, softly, echoing; when Kurt pushes down a little, Blaine willingly bends his knee, taking the stretch out of his calf muscles, into his hamstrings. "Kurt," he says again. "You can -- A little harder, if you --"

It sounds like something that someone would say during sex, and Blaine must realize it the same time that Kurt does, his eyes widening even as Kurt feels his cheeks heating up.

"I mean," Blaine adds, with a soft, sheepish laugh. "Just. I'm pretty flexible."

"Okay, that's really not helping," Kurt says before he can stop himself, and Blaine's jaw drops. Then he laughs again, and Kurt doesn't laugh, but he smiles.

"I'm sorry." When Kurt pushes on Blaine's ankle, Blaine straightens his leg again, taking the stretch back into his calf. "I..." Blaine lets out another of his nervous, sheepish laughs (Kurt's not sure if he's only cute when he's nervous or if he's cute all the time, but he's definitely cute, either way).

"I'm sorry too," Kurt says, and pushes on the side of Blaine's leg until his hips twist, right leg stretched out sideways across his body, toe to the floor, his shoulders still flat. "Just... Since you said it was your first time, and everything, I figured I should probably be gentle with you, so --"

Blaine's eyes crinkle up with his smile. "I..." He laughs again, a little more full-throated now that he's not the only one making sex jokes. Then Kurt's hands shift on his thigh, angling it just so to get the maximum stretch on the iliotibial band and then pushing down, and Blaine makes this little sort of hitching noise in his throat and he doesn't quite stop smiling, but something about it shifts.

Kurt doesn't like to admit that Sue Sylvester is right about very much. She's mercilessly adept at crafting aerobics routines that manage to be extremely painful and yet extremely erotic at the same time, but that's about all Kurt will give her credit for. But there is something about the process of stretching someone else's body, placing your hands all over them and pushing and pulling and manipulating them just so.

It doesn't have to be foreplay. But it can be. With the right person, it very much can be.

Kurt's trying very hard not to think about what kind of person Blaine is, partially because he doesn't want to get his hopes up too high and also partially because his shorts are really thin and even with two pairs of briefs, Kurt doesn't want to know what might come up if he lets his imagination get carried away. But. Still.

"After all, the last thing I want to do is scare you off," Kurt says, even as his right hand shifts a little higher up Blaine's thigh, until the edges of his fingertips are just below the hem of Blaine's compression shorts.

It's probably just the residual strain of the workout that's made Blaine's cheeks so pink, that makes him sound so breathless when he says, "Oh, I don't think you need to worry about that."

Probably.

But still.

Kurt stretches Blaine's legs -- his hamstrings, his calves, his quads, his IT band, his _glutes_ (biteable; Kurt's never wanted to bite anyone there before but Blaine is round and firm like an apple and Kurt just wants to sink his teeth in). He loosens up Blaine's back and eases the tension in his shoulders, the thick tendons of his neck. He pushes and pulls on Blaine's satisfyingly well-built arms, tugs and shoves and shifts and manipulates him until he's loose and pliant underneath Kurt's hands.

And then it's over, and it's Kurt's turn to lie back on the mat and let Blaine lay his hands on him.

Blaine's breath hitches again as soon as Kurt lifts his right leg perpendicular to the floor, and then _again_ when his hands settle on Kurt's leg, Kurt's ankle exposed by his short socks, his thigh almost completely bared by the way his red shorts ride up. "Your skin's really soft," Blaine murmurs, breathing out hot against the back of Kurt's knee, and Kurt actually shivers, because this is foreplay. This is _completely_ foreplay and if Kurt actually does manage to scare him away after this, he'll hate himself for weeks, so he'd better not say anything ridiculous.

Except he'd better say something, because the pink is leaving Blaine's cheeks and his hands are less firm on Kurt's legs, and his warm eyes are now firmly fixed on the ground and he's obviously two seconds from bolting anyway, so Kurt opens his mouth and says the first thing that comes to mind.

"I have a very thorough moisturizing routine. It takes a little while, and my roommates get annoyed sometimes, but honestly, I just feel that skin care needs to be a priority and, you know, it takes the time it takes, even if it does cut into --" And then Kurt stops short, because Blaine is looking at him again, eyes crinkled up with his smile, but more importantly because the tips of Blaine's fingers are tracing little circles against the soft skin on the back of Kurt's thigh and Kurt's finding it hard to breath.

Then Blaine's hand stills, and the pressure eases off again. "Sorry," Blaine says. "Sorry. If that's -- if it's too much, I can --"

"No, no," Kurt says, quickly, and fights the urge to just grab Blaine by his shoulders and yank him down. "No, it's fine, you can -- You don't have to be scared. It's not my first time at the rodeo, after all."

Blaine looks away anyway, and then he looks back, and his cheeks are extra pink now, and Kurt can't pretend that it's because of Sue90X but he feels like maybe he should try anyway. "I don't --" Blaine lets out another of his quiet little laughs, and his right hand glides up Kurt's calf to his ankle, and then back down again, and Kurt's really trying not to assume anything, he really is, but that was a caress. Blaine just _caressed_ him, and Kurt honestly doesn't care if it was in front of a room full of trophy wives and aspiring exercise DVD extras, because that was a caress and Kurt wants more. Lots more. "If you could tell me? Just -- how I'm doing, so I know that I --"

Kurt curls his shoulders up until he can cover Blaine's hands with his, rocks back down and pulls Blaine with him, pulling his thigh into the perfect angle where he can just feel the stretch but isn't worried about anything tearing. Blaine moves with him, wide-eyed, and when everything is positioned right, Kurt lets go, lets Blaine take over, and forget foreplay -- this is basically _sex_ right now. "Like that," Kurt murmurs, and Blaine bites his lip, all wide eyes and wonder. "Just like that."

"Okay," Blaine says, and holds Kurt right in that position until Kurt tells him how to move again, "Like that," and, "That's good," and yeah, this is basically sex, and although Kurt's still desperately trying not to presume anything at all, he really is, he can't help but notice the quiet intensity in Blaine's eyes as he focuses on making Kurt feel good and if he's really honest with himself, Kurt is already running through his long list of excuses for kicking Rachel and Santana out of the apartment overnight.

And then it's over, the longest and the shortest fifteen minutes of Kurt's life, and Sue is lecturing one of the girls about waxing better next time so no one has to see the forest between her legs and everyone else is limping out of the room (Mark giving Blaine and Kurt a raised eyebrow and a wink as he leaves, and Kurt was kind of hoping that Mark would be jealous and sulky; the way he looks so pleased is actually kind of worse), and Kurt pushes himself up to a sitting position on his mat as Blaine crouches down next to him, green shorts riding high up his well-muscled thighs.

"So," Blaine says, and pushes some of his fluffy curly hair off his forehead, and glances bashfully down at Kurt's knees. "I. Um. I was wondering if maybe you'd like to --"

"Yes," Kurt says immediately, and when Blaine stares up at him, he flushes and shakes his head and looks down at Blaine's black sneakers, barely two inches from Kurt's shins. "I mean. Um. Can we start over, maybe pretend that I'm cool and collected and..."

Blaine shifts out of his crouch, tipping forward so that he's kneeling next to Kurt's sprawled legs, Kurt's knee bumping Blaine's hip. "We could get a smoothie?" he asks, and when Kurt feels his jaw drop in horror, Blaine quickly adds, "I mean, not here. I know a place; it -- You know, it's just fruit, and yogurt, and... No horse placenta. Or doe estrus. Or anything weird. I promise. Completely safe for human consumption."

"Okay," Kurt says, a little breathless from the whipsawing of his emotions (and okay, maybe it seems like an overreaction, but the one and only time Kurt drank one of Sue Sylvester's Special Animal Protein Blend Power Boost Smoothies, he swears to God, there was a tooth in it, an actual tooth). "That... Okay, yeah. Let's do that."

"Okay," Blaine says, and smiles at him, this broad beaming smile that Kurt wants to kiss, but he doesn't get the chance to, because Blaine is already leaning in and giving him the smallest closed-mouth peck on the corner of his lips, something so brief that Kurt barely knows it's happening before Blaine has pulled all the way back again and yet, in its own way, it feels even more intimate than his hands covering Blaine's against his bare thigh.

"Ladies, please!" Sue calls out. "Get a room! But preferably not the hot yoga room; that place is a cesspool of exotic fungal infections, and I don't want you bringing anything back with you next week."

This time, Blaine doesn't startle at all at the sound of Sue's voice, but Kurt curls his fingers around Blaine's anyway. Blaine looks up at him, everything about him sweet and open and _pleased_ , and Kurt's not sure whether he's in for a night of torrid, acrobatic sex or a night of Disney movies and cuddling, or maybe both, and it really doesn't matter because he's kicking Rachel and Santana out no matter what. "So," Blaine says, and looks down at Kurt's bare legs, and then looks back up at his face. "We should -- ah. We should probably get changed, and --"

And Kurt has no idea what makes him say it, because he does not dress like this outside of aerobics class -- his pants may be painted on some days but they are very definitely full-length pants, most often worn with a long-sleeved shirt over the top, or two shirts, or possibly a waistcoat, or ... But, "I don't need to change," he says, and glances down at Blaine's thighs, and then back up at his sweet, open, surprised (possibly lust-filled) face. "If... If you don't."

"Oh," Blaine says, his soft pink lips a little parted, and Kurt can't be sure if Blaine's imagining the two of them sitting side-by-side, bare leg to bare leg, their knees just barely brushing maybe, their shoulders grazing -- Kurt can't be sure if that's what Blaine is thinking of, but he sure hopes so. Whatever Blaine's thinking, he says, "Okay," a little breathlessly.

Then he pushes up to his feet, leans back down and holds his hands out and helps Kurt up, helps him pick up his mat and roll it up, helps him sling his duffel bag over his shoulder before going to the corner to grab his own belongings. Because apparently Blaine is not only a sweetly shy boy and a scantily-clad sex machine, he's also an old-fashioned gentleman. Kurt wonders how he can get rid of Rachel and Santana for a week. Maybe Blaine has an accomodating roommate, or no roommate at all, and they can just go to his for a few nights. Maybe they can take turns getting rid of their roommates.

Maybe someday they'll move in together.

Maybe Kurt is getting ahead of himself just a little bit.

He watches Blaine gather up his own bag, his own belongings, and when Blaine turns to look at him, Kurt holds out his hand. Blaine's fingers interlace with his, and they smile at each other. And it's funny, because they've already been so close to each other -- like, literally, physically, hands all over each other close -- but at the same time just holding hands feels like the biggest step in the world.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Sue mutters, stepping behind them and herding them towards the door. "You're very cute. Get the hell out of here. I have to clean the flop sweat off the floor."

Blaine smiles at Kurt, and Kurt smiles back at Blaine.

The two of them make their way, hand-in-hand, out of the room.


End file.
